


in the dark, together

by vannral



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6955375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vannral/pseuds/vannral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has a nightmare, and luckily Pietro's there. Conversations and typical banter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the dark, together

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Вместе в темноте](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7210097) by [colorful_dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorful_dreams/pseuds/colorful_dreams)



> I missed these two. This is just aimless dialogue. They are a bit sappy, these two. Not much of a plot here, sorry.

It’s _fear._

_No._ It’s _horror;_ flooding into Clint’s blood, and he _trembles_ with it; shakes, and everything _unravels, ravels,_ and –  _bullets -_

     “Hey, old man, shh, it is all right, it’s all right…”  

Everything shifts; blurried edges become sharper. Clint blinks, and horrible, rasping breath twists his lungs. “P – Pietro?” he croaks. “ _Pietro?”_

      “Here.” A warm, familiar, _rough_ hand grips his own, and _it’s Pietro,_ thank God, he’s okay, he’s _alive,_ Pietro’s alive – Clint blinks again, and now, he realizes he’s in their bedroom; it’s dark, and Pietro’s laying next to him, leaning on his elbow, and his gaze is completely on Clint.

     “Jesus _fuck”,_ Clint chokes, slumping back onto his pillows; relief, embarrassment flooding into him. Pietro’s hand moves to Clint’s heaving chest, as a comforting, warm weight.

     “Easy now”, he murmurs, voice still a little rough from sleep. “Breathe.”

     “’m breathin’.”

     “Breathe _better.”_

Clint snorts a weak laugh and draws a deep, a little uneven breath, his chest moving under Pietro’s hand.

     “There you go. Another. Slowly. Do not rush.”

This continues for a while; in the private sactuary of their bedroom, and slowly, Clint’s erratic heartbeat slows down, his body relaxes, and Pietro draws slow, comforting circles on his chest.

     “Do you want to talk about it?” Pietro asks, his dark eyes still moving on Clint’s face, gauging, observing.

Clint grabs Pietro’s hand and squeezes it. “A nightmare.”

     “Hmm-mmh. What was it about?”

     “You.”

Pietro doesn’t tense, doesn’t get defensive, he just tilts his head, and a tired shadow falls on his face.

     “Sokovia?”

     “Yeah, pretty much.”  

There’s really no need to ask _what about in Sokovia._ It still haunts Clint, at the edges of his mind, a suffocating feeling, a wound that’s almost healed.  

     “It is all right, Clint”, Pietro murmurs and leans to kiss him. It’s an old conversation; an old nightmare; they’ve discussed it many, _many_ times. Clint relaxes under Pietro’s warm weight and cradles his face. “I am not so easy to get rid of.”

     “Yeah, I’ve noticed”, Clint whispers, love swelling under his collarbone, making him tremble. “C’mon, kiss me again.”

They kiss, unhurried, lazy and familiar; just enjoying this closeness together and letting the nightmare fade into a dull memory. Pietro holds Clint’s hip with his other hand, pulling him even closer so there’s not even an inch of space between them. Just skin on skin, hearts beating against each other, _thump-thump-thump,_ and just _them._

     “Still did not expect you to name your kid after me”, Pietro grins against Clint’s lips. 

     “His _middle_ name, c’mon...”

Pietro chuckles, and it’s a wonderfully rough sound. “Sentimental. It is amazing.”  

     “Yeah, keep goin’, _that_ I don’t mind.”

     “Also old.”

     “Oh, _come on,_ when do you stop _callin’_ me that? Seriously, come up with better nicknames, ‘cause that? _That_ is seriously – “

     “Old? Is that what you meant?”

     “I’m this close kicking you out of the bed.”

Pietro kisses him again, silent laughter rumbling from his chest. “No, cannot take a joke? No, wasn’t serious, am sorry.” He tilts his head, and his expression softens, goes so impossibly _tender_ that Clint’s breathing hitches. “You are the love of my life”, Pietro murmurs, grasps Clint’s chin and kisses him again, and Clint kisses back, in a mixture of longing, love and relief.

     “J – _Jesus,_ kid…” he breathes against Pietro’s lips, and feels Pietro grinning.

     “Hmm-mmh. Not so bad?”

Clint brushes Pietro’s cheek tenderly. “You’re such a sappy bastard, you know that?” he asks, so impossibly _in love,_ breathless and happy, a nightmare just a fading memory around the edges.

     “Not answering my declaration of love? Very rude.”

     “Yeah, yeah, I love you, too. The bane of my existence and the love of my life. That’s you, basically, so _yeah,_ not so bad.”

     “Hmm”, Pietro nuzzles Clint’s neck. “Come on. Sleep next? You look very tired.”

     “Yeah. Can we just skip tomorrow? Tomorrow probably sucks.”

     “Does not look that great. We need to go the tower, so, yes, sucks.”  

Clint snorts and buries his hand into Pietro’s whte hair. “Yeah. And no picking fights with Stark.”

     “Boring. Can’t promise.”

     “Uh huh. C’mon.”

They settle on their bed; Pietro curling around Clint, fingers intertwined together on Clint’s chest, and face buried into the back of his neck.

     “Sleep”, he whispers to Clint’s ear. “I will be here.”

Clint relaxes, breathes deeply, content. “Yeah?”

     “Yes.”

     “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
